


Philos

by glitterandgin



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Depression, Fake Marriage, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mania, Slow Burn, bipolar!Anders, nathaniel howe is a beautiful disaster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-10 08:35:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4384892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterandgin/pseuds/glitterandgin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an effort to avoid being married off, Nathaniel finds himself forced to fake a relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Nathaniel had faced raiders, ogres, and one particularly vicious attack from that cat Anders insisted on keeping, but none of those had inspired terror anywhere close in magnitude to what he felt as he stood outside the mage’s bedroom. Squaring his shoulders for the sixth time in two minutes, he finally worked up the courage to knock on the door.

Anders answered the door, looking so happy that Nathaniel almost turned around and left rather than tell him the news. His hair was out of its usual ponytail, and he looked like he’d been about to go to bed. Nathaniel tried to memorize Anders’ expression; it was unlikely he’d see him look that happy--at least, in his direction--for the foreseeable future.

“Nate?”

Nathaniel cleared his throat, focused his attention on a spot just above Anders’ head, and said, “I have something to tell you.”

“Okay,” Anders said, drawing the last syllable out.

“You won’t like it,” Nathaniel said, glancing down at Anders’ face just long enough to see him tilt his head, confused but still looking far too cheerful for the news Nathaniel was about to impart.

“Okay?”

Nathaniel felt his bones petrify as he prepared to speak. His ribcage was solid rock, incapable of allowing anything but the shallowest of breaths.  How had he even managed to mess up this badly? “I might have told someone we’re married.”

#

He’d thought this sort of thing had ended after his father’s death. The Howes were pariahs now; surely nobody would seek the remaining members out as potential matches for their children. But there Nathaniel was, literally cornered by Lady Gilet as she rattled off the seemingly endless list of reasons why her daughter would be the perfect spouse for him. All things considered, Nathaniel wondered what exactly Sophronia had done that rendered her incapable of finding a husband anywhere else. Perhaps she set fire to her past suitors. Maybe she let her fork scrape against her teeth as she ate. He was so caught up in that line of thought that he hadn’t noticed Lady Gilet ask him a question.

“Sorry, what?” he said, blinking and hoping she’d asked if he needed to be someplace else.

“I said,” she said with the sort of haughtiness that nobility was bred for, “would you be interested in taking her as a wife?”

“I’d love to,” Nathaniel said, feeling his future grow dimmer with each passing second. It was almost pitch black when an idea struck him. “But I’m afraid I’m already married.”

“Oh?” she said, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“Ah, yes. To a fellow Grey Warden.”

“I thought the Commander was in an affair with the King,” Lady Gilet said in a tone like a steel trap.

“Oh, she is. I’m married to,” he said, drawing the last word out as he scrambled for a name. He blurted out, “Anders” and immediately regretted it.

“A mage?” she sniffed. “I wasn’t aware the Howes had fallen so far. Very well. Good day, Nathaniel.”

Nathaniel nodded, struck mute by his previous words and the knowledge that he’d have to tell Anders what he’d done. He wondered how painful being struck by a lightning bolt was. All things considered, it seemed likely that he’d find out soon.

#

Anders blinked at him. “Maybe you should come inside.”

Nathaniel entered the room as Anders stepped to the side, closing the door once they were both inside.

“Right,” Anders said, sitting on the bed. “Why did you say we were married?”

Nathaniel told him, hoping he’d managed to convey the horror of being married off to someone desperate enough to take a Howe as their spouse. When he’d finished, he couldn’t bring himself to look at Anders.

“And I don’t suppose you could say we had the marriage annulled?”

“Not unless I want to find another excuse to keep Lady Gilet away,” Nathaniel said to the dusk blue curtains. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Anders nod.

“Right,” he said. “It looks like I have one choice.”

Nathaniel steeled himself for whatever gruesome spell Anders would cast. Instead, the mage said, “But you better get me a pretty ring.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Chateau Gilet had been designed at the turning point between two very disparate architectural fads. While half the manor consisted of graceful marble arches and frescoes, the other half consisted of austere steel pillars that ended in points so sharp it was a wonder birds didn’t routinely skewer themselves on them. Half of these pillars had been painted what the truly optimistic could call “puce”, but was more accurately described as “the exact combination of red and purple that would make the Maker re-abandon Thedas”. The overall effect made Anders wonder if anyone had considered starting a “don’t lick raw lyrium veins” campaign in the area.

Anders whistled as they stepped out of the carriage Connie had found near the stables. Said carriage had been hastily painted silver with what was either a griffon or a mabari in the last throes of rabies on the side.

“Well, at least we know they’ll have good liquor,” Anders said as he and Nathaniel approached the front gate.

“What makes you say that?” Nathaniel said.

“They’d have to in order to look at this place every day.”

As they reached the front door, Nathaniel tugged on Anders’ hand, pulling him to a stop. He said, “I’m sure it goes without saying, but we have to make this convincing.”

“Of course,” Anders said, looking down at the hand that encircled his wrist, holding it just lightly enough that he could break away if he wanted. He didn’t bother trying.

“Nobles are like sharks.”

“I thought I spied gills on your neck,” Anders said, hoping to elicit a smile from Nathaniel. He could practically hear the other man’s nerves jangling.

“Anders.”

Anders sighed. “I get it. They can sense weakness, insatiable lust for blood, et cetera. Listen, I’ve got this. I can let you ravish me on the dining room table, if you like.”

“I doubt it will come to that,” Nathaniel said, raising an eyebrow. When he next spoke, it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than to anyone else. “It shouldn’t last more than two hours. We can pretend for two hours. It will be easy. We can do this.”

“Of course we can, love,” Anders said, smiling at the twitch of lips “love” had earned him.

“May as well get this over with.”

They entered the manor, Nathaniel still holding Anders’ wrist.

When they reached the dining room, Anders was immediately struck by how out of place he was. While he’d picked out his best robes, their ornateness made him stand out like a peacock with a predilection for decorative belts. He’d simply have to pretend this had been his intention the whole time.

Their seats were next to Lady Gilet’s, who insisted she’d done so to honour the newlyweds. Nathaniel looked torn between scepticism and a desperate desire to throw up.

Anders flashed his most charming smile at their host and bowed. “An honour to meet you, dear madam.”

“You must be Anders,” she said in the tone of voice most people used while searching for flaws in merchandise in order to get a discount.

“The one and only,” Anders said, only widening his grin. It was like Nathaniel said; these people were sharks.

Lady Gilet gestured to the young woman to her right. “This is my Sophronia.”

In his peripheral vision, Anders saw Nathaniel tense. He reached out and patted Nathaniel’s wrist in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. Sophronia simply looked elegantly bored with the entire situation.

They took their seats, and the meal began. If Lady Gilet had been interested in Anders before, her curiosity had been honed into a fine point by the sound of the dinner bell.

“Nathaniel tells me you’re also a Grey Warden,” she said, stirring her squash soup.

“And a mage,” Anders added brightly. Nathaniel kicked his ankle.

“Indeed,” she said with a sniff. She suddenly smiled like a spider who’d finished the last thread of its web. “Tell me, how did you end up marrying?”

“Oh,” Nathaniel said as though he’d travelled all the way to Denerim before realising he hadn’t put on trousers. “We-”

“It was very romantic,” Anders interrupted. “We’d just finished clearing a bunch of darkspawn out of a cave--you know how they like to gather in dark places; they’re worse than rats--and we’d stumbled back into the light. Suddenly, Nathaniel pulls me into a kiss. Just kissed me right there, like we’d been doing it for years. Didn’t even mind the blood on my face. ‘I don’t want to lose you.’ That’s what he said. ‘I don’t want to lose you, Anders. Marry me.’ Of course I said yes, and here we are.”

“Here we are,” Nathaniel echoed.

“I see,” she said, tilting her head back slightly. “How romantic.”

“That’s Nate for you,” Anders said with the widest grin of the night.

“Anders--” Nathaniel began. Before he had a chance to continue his sentence and risk ruining their cover, Anders leaned over and kissed Nathaniel on the mouth. He placed a hand on the back of Nathaniel’s head, holding them together until Lady Gilet cleared her throat. After the first second, Nathaniel’s hands had found their way into Anders’ hair, mussing his ponytail. _That should be convincing enough_ , Anders thought.

“Newlyweds,” someone down the table piped up as they separated.

Lady Gilet looked ready to pour her soup on both of their heads.

After the dinner, Nathaniel barely looked at Anders.

“Okay, I might have got a little carried away,” Anders said once they’d climbed into the carriage.

“A little,” Nathaniel said drily.

“You said to make it convincing,” Anders said. “They way you were acting, she would have figured it out immediately. I’ve seen people show more affection to pond scum.”

Nathaniel sighed. “Let’s just go home. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Right. At least we won’t have to do this again, right?”

Nathaniel didn’t reply. They rode home in silence.


	3. Chapter 3

Nathaniel was dimly aware of people speaking behind him, but their words were muffled by the oppressive heat and his focus on the targets in front of him. He loosed arrow after arrow, trying and failing to pour every molecule of his frustration into the action. When he’d run out of arrows, he walked to the targets and retrieved them, yanking them out with more force than strictly necessary. If someone had asked--and he prayed to the Maker that they wouldn’t--he wouldn’t have been able to explain why he was so frustrated. It had started some time in the carriage home yesterday, and had only grown throughout the night until it pressed behind his eyes and choked his heart. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to speak without it turning into an inarticulate noise of exasperation.

Sweat poured off of him as he resumed shooting at the targets, drenching his clothes and glueing his hair to his face and the back of his neck. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he should take a break, or at least rehydrate, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. If he had it his way, he’d keep it up until he ran out of daylight. From the position of the sun, he had at least eight hours until then.

Then, before he knew what was happening, his vision went fuzzy, his hearing blacked out, and he fell to the ground.

When he opened his eyes, he was in a much softer location and Anders was hovering over him with a worried expression. His eyes--traitorous things that they were--immediately fixated on Anders’ lips, dragging the memory of that awful dinner back into the light. When he’d told Anders to make it convincing, he’d expected saccharine pet names and maybe a peck on the cheek. Leave it to the mage to take it too far, leaving Nathaniel’s stomach knotted up with anger and confusion. So Anders had kissed him. So what? Clearly he was mad because Anders was treating the whole thing like some elaborate prank when it needed to be taken seriously. _He_ needed to be taken seriously. He closed his eyes and wished he would faint again.

“I’m not leaving till you drink that water,” Anders said. Nathaniel opened his eyes and saw the pitcher and glass on his bedside table. “You’re dehydrated.”

“I’m fine,” Nathaniel said, the lie weak on his lips.

“You’re staying in bed for the rest of the day, that’s what you are,” Anders snapped. It was the first time Nathaniel could remember hearing Anders anywhere close to angry over something small. He wondered if he’d fallen into an alternate universe when he’d fainted.

“I’m fine,” he said, this time managing to sound a little more convincing.

“Drink the damn water, Nate.”

Nathaniel sighed but scooted until he was propped upright by the pillows. There were at least four more than he usually had. Who had put them there? He took the glass of water with hands that trembled ever so slightly and sipped, unwilling to show how much he needed it. He stared down at his quilt, a threadbare thing he’d had since before he’d been sent to the Free Marches. It was better than looking at Anders with his stupid, bowed lips that smiled even when it was clearly not a smiling matter. Better still than seeing that they weren’t smiling at all.

When Nathaniel finished his first glass of water, Anders poured him another one. And another. Before he knew it, the pitcher was empty and he felt much better. He was sure he’d be able to resume his archery practice, if only Anders would let him leave the bed.

“You could at least explain why you’re mad at me,” Nathaniel said after glancing over to see Anders staring at him with furrowed brow and thin lips.

“You did it on purpose,” Anders said. “Never, not once have you disregarded your health during training. You did it on purpose, and it was stupid. You’re too important to… to the Wardens to let yourself get hurt when you can avoid it.”

Nathaniel bit back a rude retort. His only chance of leaving bed rested on finding his way back into Anders’ good graces. After taking thirty seconds to make sure he’d sound at least a little sincere, he said, “Sorry.”

“Bloody well better be,” Anders said before muttering something Nathaniel couldn’t catch.

Nathaniel must have fallen asleep, because when he opened his eyes again, it was dark outside. By the light of the candle, he could see that Anders was still at his bedside, having fetched a book sometime during Nathaniel’s nap.

“It won’t happen again,” Nathaniel said, clearing the sleep out of his throat.

Anders nodded, closed his book, and left.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Anders had never been more grateful for the lull in work at Vigil’s Keep. Save for a few trips to deal with darkspawn stragglers, there’d been surprisingly little to do, allowing him to spend more and more time in bed without arousing suspicions. He might have felt insulted at the lack of attention the other Wardens paid to him, if only he were capable of feeling anything but exhaustion at the moment.

He nestled under the covers and let his eyelids fall shut once more. Opening them in the first place had drained what little energy he had left. He was nearly asleep when someone knocked on his door. He ignored it, hoping they’d give up. They knocked again, and this time he simply groaned in response.

The door swung open with enough force that it smacked against the wall with a loud thud before swinging back and nearly hitting Nathaniel, who stood in the doorway with an unreadable expression. If Anders had to pick a description of it, he might tentatively say “concerned”, but that had to be wrong.

Anders pulled the covers up to his chin and hoped that Nathaniel would leave when he didn’t try to make conversation. He barely had the energy to breathe, let alone speak.

“Mage,” Nathaniel said, closing the door and taking a seat on the bed. “You haven’t left your room all day.”

Anders shrugged and remained silent. Through the haze of marrow-deep exhaustion and the veritable mountain of covers tucked over him, he felt Nathaniel place a hand on his ankle.

“What’s wrong?” Nathaniel said softly, almost tenderly.

Anders shook his head and wished he wasn’t so close to tears. He’d alternated between crying and sleeping all day, and Nathaniel’s presence only inspired an exciting mix of both.

“Did the Commander send you up?” Anders said, his voice flat even to his ears. Each word was like taking a barefoot step on a floor full of broken glass, but he pressed on. “You don’t have to bother. I’m fine.”

“I chose to come here,” Nathaniel said, moving his hand up and down Anders’ ankle. “I was worried.”

“Don’t bother. I’m fine,” Anders said. He didn’t want Nathaniel to leave, but it would be so much easier to pretend nothing was wrong if he were alone. It was easier still than wondering why Nathaniel cared in the first place. They had no pressing responsibilities at the moment; it wasn’t like Anders was a liability on the battlefield.

“Are you ill? Did something happen?” The hand on his ankle disappeared and suddenly Nathaniel was lying behind him on the bed, breath warm and almost comforting on his neck.

“It’s nothing. I just don’t feel,” he said, trailing off. He’d meant to add “well” at the end of the sentence, but ran out of energy just short of it. Nathaniel would get the message.

His eyes closed once more as Nathaniel began running his fingers through his hair, starting at the scalp and gently working through the tangles that had formed as a result of his day in bed.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Nathaniel said, still running his fingers through Anders’ hair. “But I’ll listen if you decide you do.”

“You don’t have to worry. I’ll be as useful as ever in battle,” Anders said, wishing he could put even the slightest tinge of emotion in his words.

“It’s not about that,” Nathaniel said, sounding almost affronted.

“Then why do you care?” Anders said, his voice cracking on the last word. He wanted to enjoy the tenderness, the kind words, but the tar in his heart insisted that he deserved none of it, and it was all too easy to believe that.

“Do you need anything?” Nathaniel said, avoiding the question with the grace of Oghren attempting to dance.

Anders shook his head and stopped fighting the waves of sleep that pushed at his brain. The conversation had sapped what little energy he’d had that day. When he fell asleep, Nathaniel had draped an arm over his waist, and he could almost believe that maybe he did deserve the kindness.


	5. Chapter 5

Ever since he’d comforted Anders in bed that day, Nathaniel had made a point of avoiding the mage. He tried to keep his behaviours inconspicuous, but there were only so many times he could have “forgotten something in the library, don’t wait up” before Anders caught on. Anders was recovering from depression, not comatose. So it wasn’t much of a surprise when Anders finally cornered him just outside of the party’s campsite.

“It’s not contagious, you know,” Anders said, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

“I know that,” Nathaniel said, uncomfortably aware of the tree directly behind him. A twig was poking the small of his back, and it made it rather difficult for him to focus on the conversation long enough to say something meaningful.

“Really. Because you haven’t spent more than five minutes in the same room as me since that day. I’m surprised you even went on this mission,” he said, stepping closer. Nathaniel could practically taste his heart in his mouth as Anders stood less than six inches away from him. Anders continued, “What happened doesn’t have to change anything. I’m the same as I’ve always been.”

Nathaniel nodded. The twig dug into his back so much that he wouldn’t be surprised if there was a permanent indentation from it. “I know that.”

“Then why are you avoiding me?” Anders said, taking another step forward. Nathaniel could smell his mint soap and the lyrium potions he’d used during their latest skirmish with darkspawn. He could count every freckle on his face, every shade of brown in his eyes. He could--

And then, without thinking, he pulled Anders into a kiss entirely unlike the one at Lady Gilet’s dinner. In this kiss, he attempted to pour all his frustrated attempts at voicing his thoughts and feelings, clutching Anders as though he hoped to make up for every second he’d spent avoiding him. To his surprise, Anders wrapped his arms around him and leaned forward so that he was pressed up against Nathaniel. Nathaniel heard that blighted twig snap as he was pushed up against the tree, but any satisfaction brought about by that was eclipsed by the sensation of Anders’ lips brushing against his own.

Anders pulled away with a smile. “Are you going to start answering all my questions like that? Because I could get used to-”

His sentence was cut short as Nathaniel kissed him once again. Kissing Anders was like being zapped with one of the mage’s lightning bolts, stunning and invigorating all at once. Anders made a soft noise of contentment. Nathaniel wanted to bottle that noise and store it in his pack, so he could hold it to his ear like a seashell and remain warm on the coldest days.

Anders pulled away once more. Nathaniel held his wrists gently and said, “Anders, wait.”

“I think you owe me an explanation,” Anders said, his tone just shy of serious. “But it can wait till we get back to the Keep.”

And then Anders was kissing him, and Nathaniel could pretend that it had always been this way.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

By the time they returned to Vigil’s Keep, Anders’ mind had broken free of all mental tethers and branched out like lightning on a clear day. He felt like a gas lamp that had been turned all the way up, blindingly bright as flame burst upward from the glass. He was unstoppable, he was brilliant and clever and charming, he was--

Alone in the kitchens at four in the morning, trying and failing to make a perfect poached egg. A small pile of eggshells covered the counter. Some had fallen to the floor and had been summarily crushed under foot as Anders half-walked, half-danced around the kitchen, humming one of Oghren’s bawdy songs.

“Anders?”

Anders dropped the egg he’d been holding as he spun to face Nathaniel. He could feel his already semi-permanent smile grow wider. “Nate! Oh, good. You can help me.”

“What are you doing?” Nathaniel didn’t look as thrilled by the idea as Anders had expected. If Anders didn’t know that everything was completely, undoubtedly, absolutely fine, then he’d almost say Nathaniel looked worried. Again. What was with him and almost looking worried?

“I’m making breakfast,” Anders said, gesturing to the chaos around him. “Eggs.”

“Eggs?” Nathaniel’s expression slipped into something resembling confusion. Anders wondered why he was having so much trouble figuring out Nathaniel’s expressions. Had it always been this difficult? It was hard to imagine life being any different from its current state.

Anders nodded. “I had this brilliant idea, and I couldn’t sleep. You know how the chef always messes up the eggs? Swear to Maker, they’re always cooked till they’re practically rocks or they run more than me. So I figured, why not improve on the recipe?”

“At four in the morning,” Nathaniel said, gingerly stepping around the debris until he stood directly in front of Anders. He cupped Anders’ chin in his hands and tilted his head until they made full eye contact. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Of course I am,” Anders said, not even bothering to seem affronted or anything less than cheerful. “Never better. Help me cook?”

“When was the last time you slept?” Nathaniel let go of Anders’ chin and took his wrists in hand.

Anders pursed his lips. “I know I’ve slept,” he said. “I’m sure I took a nap yesterday.”

“Do you have some of those sleeping draughts left?”

Anders nodded. “I was saving them in case Sigrun had another bad case of Warden dreams.”

Nathaniel lightly stroked the inside of Anders’ wrists with his thumbs. “Why don’t I help you clean this up, and then you’ll take one of them?”

“I don’t need to,” Anders said, raising his eyes to the ceiling and shaking his head. “I’m fine, Nate.”

“It would make me feel better.”

It was a dirty trick, and they both knew it. But it worked, and Anders found himself nodding.

As they cleaned the kitchen, Anders chatted away, mostly speaking for his own benefit. “So with the right combination of elfroot and embrium, I’m sure I can cure the Commander’s allergies. I’ll get started on that soon, I think. It will take some time for the potions to reach full strength, and I still need to figure out the right ratio. What do you think?”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Nathaniel said, materializing behind Anders. “Do you think it could wait until after you’ve slept?”

“If you insist,” he said, turning to face Nathaniel. They stared at each other in silence for a second before Anders closed the gap between them, kissing Nathaniel with all the energy that had been buzzing inside him for the past few days. Time must have sped up, because the kiss seemed to end almost as soon as it began.

“You said we needed to talk about this,” Nathaniel said, reaching towards Anders’ face before stopping a centimetre short.

“After I sleep?”

Nathaniel smiled. “After you sleep.”


	7. Chapter 7

It had taken three sleeping draughts for Anders to fall asleep, leaving Nathaniel unable to do anything but worry and watch for any adverse effects of taking two more than the recommended dosage. Despite the fact that they occupied the same bed and Nathaniel could feel Anders’ breaths on his bare skin, he found himself compelled to glance over every thirty seconds to make sure the mage was still breathing. Was his pulse normal? Nathaniel brushed Anders’ hair back and placed two fingers on the side of his neck, counting his heartbeats until he was satisfied that Anders wasn’t in any immediate danger of dying in his sleep. He let his hand rest on Anders’ neck. There was no harm in monitoring his heartbeat just a little longer, surely. Anders’ skin was soft and warm, and Nathaniel began absently stroking it with his thumb. When he realised what he was doing, he jerked his hand back, covering it with his other one as though it might return to Anders’ neck without something to pin it down. He looked at Anders one last time before finally attempting to fall asleep.

When he opened his eyes, Anders was very much alive, though Nathaniel would be wary to describe him as “well”. His eyes were almost too bright, and he was in the process of scribbling madly with a quill and spare piece of parchment he’d found in Nathaniel’s room.

“Oh! You’re up,” Anders said, dropping the writing implements and turning to face Nathaniel with a grin. “I wasn’t sure if I should wake you or not. You said you wanted to have that discussion, but I figured it was best to let you rest a bit before that. You sounded kind of serious. You should lighten up, you know. It’s fun. Go on, try it.”

Nathaniel licked his lips and took a steadying breath. It would be so easy to brush off the discussion and try to continue on as normal, but it would be like ignoring a wound. Eventually it would have to be dealt with, and putting it off would only make it worse.

“We need to talk about us,” Nathaniel said. That had sounded better in his head.

“We’re already married. Did you want to re-marry me? Is that a thing? Are we going to renew our vows?” Anders chuckled. “I mean, I guess we’d have to have vows in the first place to do that.”

“Anders, I’m sorry I ever-”

“Don’t start. I need to tell you something. I love you, Nate. I don’t care if this is a fake marriage; I love you. I want to be with you, really. I want to fall asleep next to you every night for the rest of my life, and I want to make you happy. I’d actually marry you, if you wanted. We could have a big wedding and everything. I’m sure some Chantry mother could be persuaded to do the rites. The Commander’s in a relationship with King Alistair, isn’t she? Just imagine, the King of Ferelden at our wedding! Oh, and I’ll have to send an invitation to the Knight Commander. I can just see the look on his face when he finds out I’m marrying a noble.”

“Anders, maybe we should talk about this after you’ve calmed down,” Nathaniel said. “You haven’t thought this through.”

“If that’s what you want,” Anders said with a fraction less cheer than he’d had before. He climbed out of bed and walked to the door, bouncing upwards slightly with each step, as though he only stayed on the ground out of deference to the rest of the world. “I’ll leave you be, then. See you around, Nate.”

After Anders had left, Nathaniel buried his face in his palms and groaned. He should never have kissed Anders in the first place. It had felt good at the time, but so did drinking until he couldn’t see straight. And much like drinking excessively, now he was stuck with consequences that made his stomach churn and tie itself into a messy knot.

More than anything, he wanted to believe Anders’ words. But the mage’s judgement was clearly affected by _something_ , and it would be unfair to hold him to what he’d said once he was calmer. It hurt to think that the idea of a real marriage between them was equivalent in importance to perfecting a recipe for eggs, but he’d learn to live with that knowledge. He could only hope that once Anders was back to his regular self, they could pretend the past two days--maybe their first kiss, even--had never happened. It would be much better than a long, painful conversation that would inevitably end in Anders saying he didn’t know what he was thinking, and that they should keep the relationship platonic, if not end it altogether.

He lowered his hands and shook his head. All things considered, there was only one thing he could do.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

As quickly as his mood had soared, it plummeted. Days of little or no sleep caught up with Anders and sapped his energy, leaving his limbs heavy and his brain fogged. Even the simplest thoughts moved through his brain like a fly in hardening amber, and it took increasingly more energy just to get out of bed each morning. He managed to hide it well enough that it could pass for the consequences of too many sleepless nights, but he could feel exhaustion and malaise tugging at the edges of his brain as though it were a tapestry they meant to unravel.

He’d worked on a potion to help with his moods before, but with little success. The first time he’d used it during one of his lows, it had sent his mood shooting into desperate, dangerous mania. Perhaps if he combined the stimulant with a calming agent, however…

Before he had a chance to write down the idea, someone knocked on his door. For a brief moment, Anders’ mood elevated when he opened the door and saw Nathaniel. It sank to its original state at the sight of Nathaniel’s expression.

“We need to talk,” Nathaniel said, entering the room as Anders stepped to the side and closed the door.

“Oh? I thought we were going to play darts,” Anders said with a smile the corners of his mouth could only barely keep up.

“Anders.”

“Nathaniel,” Anders said, matching Nathaniel’s warning tone. He sighed. “Well, what are we talking about?”

Nathaniel took a seat on the bed, scarcely looking at Anders out of the corner of his eye when Anders joined him. He said, “I think we need to end this.”

“Funny, I never saw it begin,” Anders said, picking at a piece of lint on his blanket.

“Anders,” Nathaniel said. He almost sounded remorseful.

“I know my name,” Anders snapped. “You don’t have to keep saying it.”

“An--” Nathaniel paused and sighed. “It was wrong of me to drag you into this. My lie has served its purpose, and I think it’s time for us to end this charade.”

“You’re annulling the marriage? I thought we needed a Chantry mother to do that,” Anders said, shooting for humour and landing somewhere in the bitter range. He could practically hear Nathaniel suppress the urge to say his name again.

“I don’t know what I was thinking when I said we were married. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry, Anders.” And damn him, he did sound sorry.

“What’s to apologise for? It was just a bit of fun, after all,” Anders said. His tone wobbled like a rickety table, though with what, he wasn’t sure. Anger, probably. Anger was good. If he was angry, he didn’t need to stop and analyse his reaction. It was pure, simple anger at being used as a cover with no regard for his opinion. It was anger at himself for being stupid enough to think that kiss in the forest had meant anything. It was anger at himself for wishing they could kiss again.

“Right. Of course,” Nathaniel said, standing. “I’m glad we cleared this up. I’ll see you at supper?”

“I won’t be eating in the stables,” Anders said drily, already knowing that he would skip that meal. “See you then.”

He waited until Nathaniel was completely gone, and then he curled up on his bed. He stayed that way until nightfall. 


	9. Chapter 9

If a month ago someone had told Nathaniel that he’d envy the Warden Commander for having only Oghren for company in the Deep Roads, he would have asked if they’d been stealing sips of said dwarf’s special brew. And yet, in a demonstration that the Maker had a sense of humour, Nathaniel found himself wishing he had the dwarf for company instead of Anders.

The party had been separated after learning an important lesson about the volatility of lyrium sand, especially when combined with magical fire and lightning. The resulting explosion had provided valuable information concerning ancient dwarven architecture and its weaknesses. All things considered, Nathaniel would have been happy without that particular lesson.

He glanced over at Anders, who had been walking by his side in silence for the past ten minutes. Anders’ eyes were downcast, and he walked like each step brought him closer to certain death. He’d been fine before the cave-in, exchanging quips with Oghren and making flippant comments about claustrophobia. They had seemed flippant at the time, at least. Now as Nathaniel regarded the subdued mage, he was beginning to wonder if there’d been some truth to them.

“Anders,” he said, reaching out to take Anders’ hand and stopping just short of doing so. “We’re going to get out of here.”

“Mm.”

“We are,” he said. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking-”

Anders snorted. “There’s a surprise,” he said with just a spark of anger. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to assuage Nathaniel’s fears that the mage had gone completely catatonic. “You weren’t thinking when you said we were married; you weren’t thinking when you kissed me--tell me, have you thought at all in the past month?”

Nathaniel took Anders’ hand, but Anders yanked it away. Nathaniel said, “Will you hear me out, at least?”

“Considering my only other option is to spontaneously go deaf, I suppose I will.”

Nathaniel took a deep breath and exhaled quickly. “Do you actually love me?”

Anders froze as though he’d been struck. Quietly, so Nathaniel could barely hear, he said, “Do you really have to ask?”

“Then you meant what you said, back when you were--?” Nathaniel gestured in a vaguely circular shape, unsure of what word to use.

“Does it matter? You’ve already made it abundantly clear that you don’t feel the same; there’s no need to rub my nose in it,” Anders said, tone icy. “Remember when we were walking in silence? That was fun. We should go back to that.”

Nathaniel took Anders’ hand once more; this time Anders let him hold it. “I love you, Anders.”

“Don’t.”

“I thought you didn’t mean what you’d said. I thought you’d regret it, and--I don’t know. I panicked. I thought it’d be better to end things than to hear you take back everything,” Nathaniel said, staring at the purple-red growths on the cavern walls.

“You could have trusted me to make my own choices or, I don’t know, _asked_ me if I meant it,” Anders said, his voice sharp around the edges. “Contrary to what you think, I’m capable of rational thought.”

“I know you are,” Nathaniel said, wishing he didn’t sound so defensive. “I was scared. I didn’t think I could handle hearing you say you don’t care about me.”

“So you thought you’d beat me to the punch? Your logic astounds me,” Anders said, taking a step forward, forcing Nathaniel to choose between moving with him or letting go of his hand. Nathaniel chose the former.

“I wasn’t thinking,” Nathaniel said, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “Maker, I’m an idiot.”

Anders made a little huff of amusement. “I knew that the moment I fell in love with you.”

“I’m so sorry,” Nathaniel said, squeezing Anders’ hand gently. “I love you, and I'd like to give this--us--another try. I understand if you don't want to."

Anders stopped walking and turned to face Nathaniel. “You really are an idiot, you know that?” he whispered before leaning forward until he was just an inch away from Nathaniel’s face. He trailed his hand up Nathaniel’s arm until it came to rest on his shoulder, thumb just barely brushing his neck. Slowly, so it was almost imperceptible, he moved closer until their lips were a hair’s breadth apart. Nathaniel wanted to memorize the way the shadows danced across his face, caressing his features like a lover. Despite his nervousness and anger, the gloom only made Anders shine brighter.

Suddenly, the crash and clatter of rocks filled the cavern as what Nathaniel had considered a solid wall was proven to be considerably less than solid. Nathaniel jumped in surprise.

“There y’are,” Oghren said, tromping over the rubble. “Thought you’d be crawling in deepstalkers by now.”

“Your faith in us is astounding,” Nathaniel said, studying Anders out of the corner of his eye. The mage looked withdrawn once more, but it could have been a trick of the light.


	10. Chapter 10

By the time they arrived at Vigil’s Keep, Anders’ blood itched in his veins from the enclosed spaces and the urge to kiss Nathaniel.  He wanted to tackle the rogue and kiss him senseless, and it took every ounce of self-restraint to keep from doing so. Considering the way Nathaniel had jumped back as though Anders were a poisonous spider, he doubted public displays of affection would go over well. He was pretty sure that once they were alone, it would take a winch and a direct order from the King to pull him off of Nathaniel.

Nathaniel took his hand and led him upstairs to his room, nearly bowling down a scullery maid in his haste. The door was barely closed before Anders found himself pinned against it as Nathaniel kissed him like it was all he knew how to do, clutching him and taking only the smallest of pauses for them to breathe.

Anders had mentally hoarded every one of Nathaniel’s touches, reliving them each night before he went to sleep as he imagined Nathaniel pressed up against him in the bed. He felt like a dragon discovering a cave of gold, overwhelmed by his good fortune almost to the point of paralysis. If Nathaniel’s touches were embers, Anders should have been ashes long ago.

Nathaniel rocked against Anders, and it was all he could do to keep his knees from buckling. He wrapped a leg around Nathaniel’s hip, bunching up his robes in the process. Nathaniel rubbed the newly exposed flesh tenderly, the action juxtaposed with the roughness of his calluses. Anders buried his fingers in Nathaniel’s hair, mussing the strands that were always combed into perfect submission. He ran his nails from Nathaniel’s scalp down to the back of his neck; the resulting kiss was more stunning than an ogre’s punch.

“We should,” Nathaniel said, tilting his head backwards at the bed. Anders nodded, his breath catching in his throat. Slowly, as if the act caused him physical pain, Nathaniel extricated himself from Anders’ embrace and began to move towards the bed. They made it halfway before Anders clutched at Nathaniel, pulling him into another kiss. Perhaps sensing a losing battle, Nathaniel sank to the floor, guiding Anders down with him. As Anders undid his straps and shucked his robes off, he was grateful the Commander had invested in new carpets for the rooms.

Nathaniel stripped off his armour before slowly pushing Anders onto his back. He leaned forward, pressing his mouth against the hollow of Anders’ neck and sucking ever so lightly. Anders gasped, wrapping his legs around Nathaniel once more. Nathaniel sucked a little harder before removing his lips from Anders’ neck.

“You’ll have to let go of me if you want,” Nathaniel said, trailing off. Anders huffed a little, but complied.

Nathaniel fished through his bedside table before returning with a vial of oil. Anders rolled his shoulders against the plush carpet, eyes fluttering shut as Nathaniel slowly prepared him, kissing his chest and the hollow of his neck as he did so.

The urgency present in their kisses returned as Nathaniel pushed into him, setting a fast, desperate pace as they poured their previously stifled feelings into each motion. It was sweet in its roughness, tender despite the frenzied actions. It was the culmination of a love deferred.

When they’d finished, they lay on the carpet, kissing each other lazily and catching their breath.

“I love you,” Nathaniel whispered, pushing a stray piece of hair out of Anders’ face.

Anders smiled and kissed him again. “I love you, too.”


End file.
